Two Boys of Right & Wrong and the Hogwarts Order of Defense

Draco felt as if he might be sick, though he knew he couldn’t possibly allow himself to be. He’d come so far, made so many choices, so many bad choices, surely this wouldn’t be any different. He’d looked into the eyes of a warm, and welcoming woman and cast an Unforgivable on her, how hard would it be to do the same to him?

But even as he waved his wand in the air, sitting on the wood floor outside of the Astronomy classroom, listening to Dennis’s howls of pain that droned on and on, his energy never giving out, seemingly, being so young and full of life, Draco’s lips formed the words, but no voice inside him would allow him to say them. It was as if something had clogged his throat, not unlike it had become when he would attempt to speak with any crush in his past. His voice was blocked from speaking those words, as if his Occlumency powers had snaked their way from his brain to his voice box, and prevented him from stepping permanently into the shoes of a Death Eater with his first kill.

Well his Occlumency could give up, now, because he was doing this. There was no going back, and no way he couldn’t push forwards. If he didn’t do this tonight, even if his father succeeded in taking that prophecy from Harry Potter he’d still be forced to watch him suffer and die, and his mother get the same fate, as he did too. The three of them would watch each other’s demise, unless he succeeded in this act; unless he killed Dumbledore.

Yet there was the fear below his apprehensiveness to do this, too, that his father might fail. Because if he did, and that prophecy was destroyed, then they’d still receive the same fate, unless the Dark Lord had other plans. And if he did… Well, after all Draco had suffered through this year, he would consider the release of death a mercy.

But still, Death scared him. The inevitability of it in any path he chose, whether it awaited him, his family, his friends, or his Headmaster, Death was right there, always over his shoulder since the cold nights of the Malfoy dungeons, when he had made a masked friend he had nearly forgotten now. Death was even his only friend in these dark times; a ghost, who had faced it down and now suffered inside an abandoned bathroom for eternity because of it.

Would he be met with that same fate, or allowed to pass to the beyond, whatever that may be, and maybe see Viktor again?

Draco pressed his head against the doors, shutting his eyes tight against the horrors of this night and instead imagining what the beyond might look like. Would Viktor, the one he’d seen die and give him the gift of seeing Thestrals be there, or will Death greet him in all its glory. Involuntarily, Draco was reminded of the Tale of the Three Brothers, a story his mother told him often when he was just a boy (He still is). A very popular children’s story, where Death greeted the third brother like an old friend when he died. Was that Draco’s fate now, on this night if he failed? Or was it Dumbledore’s?

Surely, a strange man like Dumbledore would greet Death as a friend. He wouldn’t mind such a fate, right?

A crack sounded somewhere beyond the doors, and Draco tried to convince himself that was true when he heard the sounds of voices beyond the screams of Dennis. Everything would be alright, because, Draco found himself repeating words that had haunted him as a crack separate from the sound of Dumbledore apparating sounded outside the window - a crack of lightning - echoing in his ears, it just had to be.

“Fetch Severus, Remus,” Draco held his breath at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice which sounded, just as he had predicted, fiery. The same sort of strong intimidating sound Draco remembered from last year, when he had come to restrain Barty Crouch Jr only to see he had flung himself out a window. The kind that meant his plan was going perfectly, and Dumbledore had come to defend his school at word that chaos had occurred, and become enraged at the sight of blood on the floor. Dennis’s cries had faded now, indicating, probably, that they had begun to get nursed with magic. “Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and take the Creevey boy with you. I will wait.”

“Why? Surely the Death Eaters are below, causing -”

“No, the Mark is above this tower and this boy has not been harmed to the extent of death. Which means someone is still waiting here to cause death. I shall draw them out; you must go find Severus. Only, Severus, Remus. Now go!”

Draco pushed himself up against the wall as much as he could, hurriedly casting a disillusionment charm as the doors crashed open and the former Professor Lupin ran out, carrying the small, slightly squirming body of Dennis Creevey in his arms. Draco stayed still, watching him dash down the spiral staircase until he was completely out of sight, before pushing the door inwards.

Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. Slowly, Draco crept across the blood stained floors of the Astronomy classroom, hand held tight around his wand, and just as he reached the doors to the ramparts outside, to the top of the Astronomy Tower, he raised it, stepping out into the midnight blue, illuminated by the green of the Dark Mark starlight and shouting, “Expelliarmus!”

Dumbledore’s wand lifted into the air and disappeared over the ramparts, and Dumbledore himself spun around from where he had been gazing around at the grounds below, bent over the crenellated ramparts, turning now to see the thin and slightly gaunt looking pale blonde staring at him, wand raising high and straight at his heart. He smiled pleasantly.

“Good evening, Draco.”

He glanced around to make sure they were alone, prolonging the time he would have to face those warm, mentoring eyes as much as he could, and saying, “You’re done, Dumbledore.” He convinced himself his voice was strong as much as he could, and not shaking as much as the fist at his side, the one not holding a weapon, was. “There are Death Eaters in your school tonight, and Death Eaters prepared to kill students at the Ministry.”

“Well, well,” Finally, Draco forced his eyes to meet Dumbledore’s, and as he expected, they were warm as well, amazed and delighted as if presented with a completed school project. “Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

“Yeah,” No, his voice wasn’t shaking, but it was panting as if he had just now run the marathon it took to get up the stairs to this tall tower, and not more than half an hour ago. “Right under your nose and you never realized!”

“Ingenious,” said Dumbledore. “Yet... forgive me... where are they now? You seem unsupported.”

“I don’t need to be. All I needed was for them to cause the chaos it would take for you to get drawn here after Snape sent out his warning. I needed you to get pulled back here. I - I’ve got a job to do.”

“Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy.” He should, so why had every muscle in his body now frozen up. Forget his voice allowing him to speak the words, his arm couldn’t even move his wand any more. All he could do was stare at his Headmaster and realize, with a sudden flipping in his stomach, that this was jarringly similar to that night he’d been humiliated by the Weasley’s, what felt like an eternity ago. When Dumbledore had come to him at this tower with a ‘good evening’, just like now, and told him a story of his Aunt. Taught him he had Occlumency. Given him knowledge of that gift that had allowed him to stay hidden in his intentions all year now.

Dumbledore smiled.

“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.”

His mother holding him tight, telling him he wouldn’t have to do the dark things his father did when he was too young to fully understand. His father telling Barty Crouch Jr how he was only a boy when enraged that he had gotten dragged into a death sentence of a Tournament. Voldemort telling him he had a great honor to perform. Myrtle telling him he was a good person. Harry saying he missed him. Harry telling him to be safe. Harry -

“How do you know?” The response was immediate, words forming even as he thought of all those memories. Still, the words were incredibly childish, and he felt his face burn, though he hoped Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to see the blush in the green light of the Dark Mark overhead. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know what I’ve done!”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Draco knew what he was going to say before he continued, and felt a sinking in his gut as he did. “You cast the Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta and used her to try and kill me first with poisoned mead, then with poisoned hot cross buns. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me since Christmas. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it…”

“It has been in it!” He shouted, though he knew his vehement tones wouldn’t hide the shaking in his voice for long. “I've been working on it all year, and tonight I’ll do it!” It was no use. Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“But yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which, I admit, I thought impossible... how did you do it?”

“The Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement,” Draco said automatically because at last, this is a question he could answer easily. “I’ve been mending it. Montague was thrown into it after Umbridge made her little Inquisitorial Squad, and he told me he could hear Borgin and Burkes.”

“Ah yes… It has a twin there, doesn't it, Draco?” Draco nodded, Dumbledore smiled, as if this was any other conversation over tea. “That was clever…” Although Draco could see, just for a moment, pain in his eyes. Exasperation that Draco had managed to figure that little trick out right under his nose, and he hadn’t suspected it.

“They form a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the Cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him ... in the end he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant - even Borgin didn't know - I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if I fixed the broken one.”

He couldn’t help it; he felt a little proud of his intelligence. He’d figured out there was something sketchy about Montague’s story immediately, and if he hadn’t, things would have gone a lot differently tonight, especially with Dumbledore leaving the school. But, miraculously, everything had gone Draco’s way, now luck wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was his voice to give up and just say it. How hard could it be?

“Very good,” Dumbledore continued. “So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you trap me here... a clever plan, a very clever plan... and, as you say, right under my nose…”

“Yeah,” Again, he was filled with a rush of triumph, raising his chin and wand and declaring, “Yeah, it was, and Umbridge’s too!” But of course, Dumbledore wouldn’t let him have a moment’s more courage or comfort.

“But there were times, weren't there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me poison when there was only a chance I would even consume it.”

Draco went silent. He couldn’t admit to him the reckless fear that had carried him through those moments, and with it the hope that he would never have to look Dumbledore in the eye and say those dangerous words, and he certainly couldn’t admit the nights he had cried to Moaning Myrtle in her bathroom. Or when he had returned to the Room of Requirement to find the Cabinet completely mended, though he hadn’t ever done it on his own, not having the time in the year. He couldn’t say a thing.

“And through all that time, I was sure it was you.”

Of course he was. A tiny voice inside him, or even a part of his heart, had known that to be true. Had known, from when Dumbledore invited him so warmly into his office and let him make his case for the poisons origin, to when the man had abandoned the school for no apparent reason as Fudge was fully on his side with Voldemort’s return and didn’t need to take him to Azkaban. It had made him wonder why he hadn’t made a direct move to stop or apprehend him, which is why he now demanded, “Why didn't you stop me, then?”

Now, Dumbledore frowned. A grim, tight, frown full of regret and grief, and one befitting the old man now cornered against a rampart, defenseless.

“Because, in truth, I had other things on my mind, and the hope that you would stop yourself,” He said softly, very softly, and Draco felt his jaw tighten. “You always were so close with Harry since that fateful Hallowe’en night, I just assumed the boy would take notice and pull you back from the darkness before it was too late. Assuming too late, for you had already severed ties with him, is that correct?”

With that same tight grief, Draco nodded his head slowly.

“I see. I, too worried for Harry above all else, and the inevitable fate this year has been leading him to the Department of Mysteries, that fate that has occurred tonight of all nights, couldn’t allow myself the time to focus on you. For that I am sorry.”

“I don’t need your sympathy!” Draco snapped through gritted teeth, gritted with the force to hold back the sting in his eyes. A sting that most certainly was not just because he hadn’t had a proper night's rest in weeks, much like the shaking that had now spread at last to his wand arm.

“Of course you don’t,” said Dumbledore. “But of course if that were true you would have killed me by now. Draco, you have had several long minutes now. We are quite alone. I am more defenseless than you could have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted…”

Draco opened his mouth, trying in vain to make it form around the words, those two awful words, but yet nothing. Always nothing.

“Now, about tonight,” Dumbledore looked up at the glimmering green Dark Mark set into the stars above them. “I take it, nobody has been murdered?” Draco allowed himself a shake of his head as Dumbledore released a sigh. “So this was only a ploy to trap me here, while I sent the rest of my Order of the Phoenix to Harry’s rescue? A plan well thought out between you and your father? I might ask, of course, how you managed to communicate with him and his Death Eater friends. What with my new Headmistress successor monitoring all letters and floo network.”

“We exchanged letters in Arithmancy code, for a time,” Draco explained, ready to keep talking, maybe even eager to, if only to stall so his mouth could finally catch up with his mind and just say it. “I used that invisible ink Weasley gave me last year. Then,” He retrieved the gold coin from within his pocket quickly before tossing it at Dumbledore’s feet. “Enchanted coins. Granger made them for the Hogwarts Order of Defense. I duplicated them with the Gemino Curse - Harry taught it to me - and then sent them to Da - my father. We’ve been using them to communicate since.”

“Ah yes, clever and cunning as always…” Dumbledore fell silent for a moment, staring distractedly out at the stars then the grounds, but when his eyes fell onto Draco’s again, they were no less warm, if not a little more serious. A bang sounded somewhere behind him and Draco tore his eyes away to stare at the doors, still cracked open just a bit from when he stepped in, but he saw nothing but the green light reflecting off pools of Dennis’s blood. A fight was occurring somewhere just below them, but it hadn’t yet reached them. It will soon, though…

“There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco spun back around to glare at him, attempting as much of a sneer as he could muster and yelling, “I'm standing here with a wand - I'm about to kill you -”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.” That’s right, he didn’t have time for this chit chat, so why did he keep talking and why couldn’t he just say those damn words.

“I haven’t got any options!” His face was long from that hot blush now, and he instead felt utterly cold, and alone. Shivering under the night sky but maybe just from fear as he shouted, “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!” He was horrified to feel his cheeks get warmed suddenly by small tears. He couldn’t cry, not here, not now.

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position, why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Why else did I find myself in the precarious situation between stopping Voldemort’s mission for the prophecy or his mission for you? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you.”

Lord Voldemort. Involuntarily, Draco winced, the name sending a shiver down his spine. The name brings back much colder memories of red eyes and the Dark Mark getting burned into his skin, and a boy in the shadows, a burlap sack over his head whispering about his dad and girlfriend. Was that going to be him? Except he didn’t have a boyfriend - he’d pushed Anthony away for fear of what he’d due to him, what he was becoming. For fear of the skull and snake burned into his skin and the feeling that his whole life had been ripped away from him in seconds, and he’d never be the same again.

“I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you, because while I knew you were so skilled at Occlumency I was afraid even in moments such as this, that power could falter. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other... no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that that poison did not kill me as was intended... I can help you, Draco.”

“No…” Draco shook his head, his hand shaking so he wouldn’t be able to even fire the curse if he truly, deeply wanted to. Tears now clouding and blurring his vision except for those eyes. Those mentoring eyes peering over those half-moon glasses as they had countless times before to him, to other students - to Harry. “You can’t! Nobody can. He told me to do it or he’ll kill me.” He raised his other hand now, so both hands gripped his wand with the hope that might keep it steady. “I’ve got no choice.”

“Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise, and send word to the Order maybe fighting those Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries at this very moment that your father is not to be harmed. Come over to the right side, Draco... you are not a killer…”

You are not a killer. Those five words again, each an arrow to his heart. Each hitting and bringing back memories of times long gone by. His mother, his father, Harry, the Shadow, Myrtle, his mom, his dad, Harry.

“But I got this far, didn’t I?” Countless nights sitting on that bathroom floor, sobbing with a ghost for company. Listening to the screams of muggles and wishing the Shadow a happy new year. Sitting and crying to Harry on his birthday, because he couldn’t tell him, no matter how much he wanted to. He had gotten far, so very, very far… “They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here... and you're in my power... I'm the one with the wand... you're at my mercy…”

The words were weak, and carried with them memories of Viktor’s body flying through the air, limp and unmoving. Never moving again. Memories of two beams of light connecting and carrying with them more power than Draco could imagine, because he was not Harry. He didn’t have his strength, and yet he had come this far, he did have all the power now…

Right?

“No, Draco,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”

He opened his mouth, and no words came. They never would, he knew that now. He just couldn’t say them. Slowly, his wand hand dropped a fraction, and he remembered that night on this very tower. He remembered how Dumbledore had looked at him, so intently, so openly, and told him to let go of his hold on his emotions, and instead use his Occlumency to push back the darkness in his mind. He remembered how that night had been all too similar to this one now, and yet all so different.

“Draco, years ago I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices,”

He bit down on his lip, hard, because he could feel it coming, and he would break, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Please don’t make the same mistakes he did.”

With a clatter, his wand fell to the ground.

-*-*-*-

“To me, Potter,” Lucius Malfoy said once more, and Harry tore his head from where he was watching a dozen Death Eater’s in dark robes appear all around them in a circle to where the man was now holding his hand out, palm up to him. “To me.”

“Where's Sirius?” It was all that was on his mind, even now, with this strange ball in his hand, and Lucius Malfoy in front of him, all he could think of was where his godfather was because he was supposed to be here.

The Death Eaters began to laugh all around him, and one female voice to Harry’s left shouted out triumphantly, “The Dark Lord always knows!”

“Always,” Malfoy echoed oh so softly, the only one standing before them without a hood drawn up, revealing his blonde hair to be matted and crazed, as if he had been kept in a jail cell for months, and not escaped it in the same day he was arrested. It reminded Harry, terribly, of the state Draco now found himself in every day. “Now, give me the prophecy, Potter.”

“I want to know where Sirius is!”

“I want to know where Sirius is!” The same woman mocked, now stepping through a couple Death Eaters to stand by Malfoy’s side as she and her fellow Death Eaters closed in.

“You've got him,” There was a panic rising in his chest, strong and painful, but he ignored it because Sirius had to be here, he just had to be - “He's here. I know he is.”

“The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo,” The woman cackled and her own horrible baby voice, and when Harry muttered to a stirring Ron, “Don’t do anything, Not yet -” she cut him off with a burst of laughter that sounded more like a scream than anything.

“You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!”

“Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” Malfoy said. “He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.” Again, with that prophecy, yet Harry hadn’t a clue what he even met by that to give it to him in the first place.

“I know Sirius is here! I know you've got him!” Again they laughed, and now Harry felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Where was he?

“It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter,” Malfoy did not laugh. “Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands.”

“Go on, then,” said Harry, raising his own wand up to the level of the dozen others pointed at his chest, and could feel, all around him, his friends do the same, because they had come to fight, and they’d defend him until the end, for whatever mad reason, even as they no doubt all realized he’d failed them, and led them straight to their deaths.

“Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt,”

“Why would you hurt us?” Harry winced to himself as Pansy turned and pushed through everyone, wand still raised but lowered slightly as she looked pleadingly into Malfoy’s eyes, whom she had known since childhood, spending summers at his home playing with his son. “Mr. Malfoy, you know me. Think of your son, would he want -”

But again, the Death Eaters laughed, and Pansy was left shutting her mouth with a snap and a flush to her cheeks.

“Do you have any clue where Draco is, girl?” The woman beside Malfoy shrieked. “What he is doing at this very moment? Of course not, we’ve made sure no one would know, so that -”

“Bella,” Malfoy hissed to her. “We wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise after so long, now would we?”

Harry had a sinking suspicion this must have had something to do with how Draco had been acting as of late, and what he was doing that he couldn’t tell even Harry, but was interrupted in his thoughts when the woman Death Eater, probably upset at being shushed by Malfoy, shrieked, “Accio Proph-!” and he had only a moment to call back, “Protego!” before she could finish and he managed to hold onto the sphere, just barely.

“Oh he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” He could just make out a pair of maddened eyes through the slits in her hood. “Very well, then -”

“I TOLD YOU, NO!” Malfoy bellowed, glaring down at the woman before she could utter another spell, “If you smash it -!”

Smash it. They really wanted this glass ball, did they? But Harry had no use for it, only for getting his friends as far away from here and the danger the Death Eaters posed as possible, so maybe…

He was broken from his thoughts when the woman stepped forward and pulled back her hood, revealing the hollowed and gaunt, but still very recognizable manic face of Bellatrix Lestrange. “You need more persuasion?” The light in her eyes, hungry for a fight and for pain, was enough to make a shiver race down Harry’s spine. “Very well - take the smallest one. Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it.”

Instinctually and protectively, Harry could feel the other close in around Ginny and see Luna take her hand, and he himself moved to stand in front of her, holding the prophecy up before him like a bargaining chip as he declared, “You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,” into Bellatrix’s face, which had frozen, frowning. “I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he? What kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?”

It was an obvious tactic, but stalling was all he could think of beyond dropping this prophecy on the spot, but that would only give them no reason not to kill him and his friends on the spot. He was trapped, with no ideas of escape.

“What kind of prophecy?” repeated Bellatrix, and he began to wonder if she had any tactics other than mocking, herself. “You jest, Harry Potter.”

“Nope, not jesting,” He eyes flicked around at the tight circle of Death Eater’s, hoping to find a weak leak, anything. “How come Voldemort wants it?” His eyes landed on Malfoy, watching the prophecy with great longing, and something clicked in his brain. Not the weakest, but he didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

“You dare speak his name?” He turned to glare at Bellatrix, gripping the ball tightly. “Yeah, yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol -”

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked, “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare -”

“Did you know he's a half-blood too?” Hermione moaned in his ear but he ignored her. If he could get her angry, then Malfoy… “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle - or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?”

“STUPE -”

“NO!” Bingo. Bellatrix’s spell bounced off Malfoy’s deflection, causing it to spiral and hit a shelf a foot to the left, where several glass orbs fell and shattered to the ground, fragments of figures and their words floating out as Malfoy and Bellatrix shouted at each other, just as Harry wanted.

“DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!”

“He dared - he dares - he stands there - filthy half-blood -”

“WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!” bawled Malfoy, and Harry could now hear the same desperation he saw in his face in his voice. That man wanted this prophecy so very much, but for what? What was causing him to have the same entranced desperation as Harry had seen in his son’s eyes on the night of his birthday, stepping into the Room of Requirement? What were the Death Eater’s keeping from them, as Bellatrix had told Pansy?

“You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over,” He continued to stall as he thought over what he was going to do to get to talk to Malfoy. It would probably work if he got him isolated, as Bellatrix had gotten him riled up enough to be going on with. The question was how to get him alone…

“Do not play games with us, Potter,” said Malfoy.

“I'm not playing games,” He stared at the fragments of the glass ball on the ground, then looked up and around at the countless shelves above them. Bingo again.

“Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?” Malfoy began to sneer, all too similarly to the way his son used to, as Harry began to move his foot along the floor, inching it slowly for someone else's. “What about my scar?” Again, the Death Eaters began to laugh, and good thing too, because it masked the sound of Pansy’s yelp when he lightly stepped down on her toes. “Smash shelves,” he whispered to her, moving his lips as little as possible, eyes intent upon Malfoy’s narrowed eyes.

“Can this be? Dumbledore never told you?” The blonde asked. “Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why -”

“- when I say now -”

“- you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…”

“Did he?” Harry suddenly remembered he was supposed to be active in this conversation when Malfoy trailed off, and could feel tiny movements behind him as his friends stepped on each other’s feet or tapped shoulders or arms to pass the message along. “So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?”

“Why?” For some wild reason, Malfoy now sounded delighted, all signs of desperation and pain gone from his face. “Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him.”

“And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?”

“About both of you, Potter, about both of you… haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?” Harry set his jaw tight, gritting his teeth slightly as he looked into Malfoy’s gray eyes, gleaming with absolute delight. He did wonder, and in fact longed for that answer. Had asked Dumbledore for years to gain no answer but now, Lucius Malfoy was telling him he held it in his hand, the reason for everything. Why his parents died, and why he had to carry this lightning-bolt scar.

How had he survived that night?

“Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?” He looked down at the ball in his hand, swirling with mist, feeling his fingers subconsciously tighten around it, and the same wonder and longing that had first drawn him to pick it up off the shelf filled him once more. “And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?”

“Get it himself?” shrieked Bellatrix as the Death Eaters cackled once more. “The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?” Harry knew none of this was true, but also that all those months of hard work keeping Voldemort sure the Ministry was unaware he was back would go to waste if someone looked in his mind and discovered that now, so he did his best to not think that.

“So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?' said Harry. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it - and Bode?”

“Very good, Potter, very good…” Malfoy said slowly. “But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell -”

“NOW!”

All at once, six voices behind him shouted, “REDUCTO!” In unison, the red jets of light crashed into the shelves before them as hundreds of glass spheres burst open and fell in fragments to the ground, their contents spilling out in pearly-white mist before fading, causing the shelves to sway dangerously with the impact of the curses.

“RUN!” Harry bellowed, holding one arm over his head to shield against the shard of glass and lunging forward towards Lucius Malfoy, who was sneering at him and readying his wand - but of course, he wouldn’t dare attack and risk the prophecy. Harry could see for a split second his gray eyes widen in confusion before he gripped him in a fistful of robes and pushed him to the ground, the pair submerged by the mist around them and the screams of Death Eater’s and his friends as they were rained down on with glass and splintered wood.

“Ge - Off - Pot - Er!”

“Where is Draco?”

With a great roar Malfoy transferred all his weight and managed to flip Harry over so now he was pinning him to the ground, fumbling for the ball still held tight in his fist. “The prophecy Potter. You’ll know the truth if you just -” “NO!”

He kneed him as hard as he could in the gut and scrambled to his feet, dashing through the smoke towards where he could hear Hermione yell, “Stupefy!”

When he emerged from the smoke it was at the end of row ninety-seven, and he could see the door they had come through was open, and his friends were running through it now, Hermione dragged Neville on behind her, who was clutching his shoulder.

“Hermione!” She spun around, pushing Neville in and holding the door open as she watched him sprint towards her, screaming, “Harry!” then, “Stupefy!” once more and Harry craned his neck to see Bellatrix duck the curse smoothly before he was too pushed into the room of glittering lights. Hermione slammed the door, and he panted hard, checking to see the prophecy wasn’t cracked or harmed, but it was safe - intact.

“Colloportus!” Hermione gasped at the door and Harry turned around only to see, to his great dismay, Neville was his only company.

“Where - where are the others?” He gasped, still panting for air, and Hermione turned to see the same, whispering, “They must have gone the wrong way!” In pure horror, clutching her cheek and mouthing what Harry was sure to be, Ron before Neville raised a hand to her shoulder and pointed at the door, whispering, “Listen!”

They crammed against the door, pressing their ears to it and listening as closely as they could.

“Leave Nott, leave him, I say,” Lucius Malfoy was saying. “His injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We’ll get the girl later but we need Potter. Now, we'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary - Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right - Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead - Macnair and Avery, through here - Rookwood, over there - Mulciber, come with me!”

Hermione stepped away from the door, shaking, and asked Harry, “What do we do?”

“Well, we don’t stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start,” Harry too backed away, turning to try and figure out what would be the best hiding place. “Let's get away from this door.” They all ran past the bell jar on quiet feet, or as quiet as they could manage, and towards the exit, and for a moment, Harry thought they might make it, but then something thudded against the door behind them and they heard a voice, yelling, “Stand aside! Alohomora!”

The door flew open, but Harry, Hermione, and Neville had already dived under desks layered with time-turners for cover. They could just see the bottoms of a pair of Death Eaters’ robes walking towards them rapidly.

“They might've run straight through to the hall,” said the same voice that had cast the spell on the door. “Check under the desks.” said a different one Harry didn’t recognize.

Just as Harry saw them bend their knees, he poked his wand out from under the desk and released a shout of, “STUPEFY!”

The nearest Death Eater fell back against a grandfather clock, knocking it over, but his spell did not hit the second who was now pointing his wand at Hermione as she crawled out from under the desk. She was pointing at the Death Eater that had fallen. She couldn’t see -

“Avada -”

Gritting his teeth Harry launched at the Death Eater’s knees and toppled him to the ground, and as Neville scrambled out under his desk too he knocked it over, aiming over it like a blockade and yelling out, “EXPELLIARMUS!” desperately. Unfortunately, his hurried aim caused both the Death Eater’s and Harry’s wands to fly out of their hands, back towards the prophecy filled room they had just left.

In a moment, the pair were scrambling to retrieve their wands.

“Get out of the way, Harry!” Neville yelled behind him and Harry, hoping this spell would do better than the last, flung himself to the side as Neville stopped short and pointed at the Death Eater diving for his wand, yelling, “Stupefy!”

It did not. The red light flew straight over the Death Eater’s shoulder, slamming into a cabinet and causing it to fall, crashing with a burst of wood and glass. The cabinet rose back to the wall before falling again, shattering, then springing back to the wall, and repeat. The boys were helpless to watch as the Death Eater reached his wand, but when he turned Harry ducked behind a different desk, watching as the man tore off his mask, which had fallen over his face, revealing a bearded, angry looking face that growled, “STUP -”

“STUPEFY!” Hermione’s spell collided right with the Death Eater’s chest, who fell backwards against the bell jar behind him. Though he didn’t collide against the solid glass with a thunk, instead slipping through it as if it was merely a bubble of glass and landing his head on the table inside.

“Accio wand!” Hermione tossed Harry’s wand over to him once it had hit her palm and he caught it gratefully, with a quick, “Thanks.”

“Right, let’s get out of -”

“Look out!” They all raised their wands apprehensively at Neville’s words to the Death Eater inside the jar, only to stare in open mouthed horror as his head seemed to shrink down to that of a baby, then back into the bearded face. Then back again. Over and over and over and over -

“It’s Time,” Hermione’s voice was awestruck - horrified. “Time…”

The Death Eater tried to rise from the table several times when his head was in present form again, only for it to resort back to babyhood and him to slip and fall once more. Harry was broken out of a trance of watching this progression only by a shout seemingly from the room beside them, followed by a loud crash, and then a scream.

“RON?” Harry yelled around, sprinting over to the wall to his left and pressing a hand against it. “GINNY? LUNA? PANSY?”

“Harry!” Harry turned, gaping as he watched the Death Eater stumble around the floor, having finally pushed himself out of the jar but now with a tiny baby’s head bawling loudly on top of a thick, muscular adult body. He raised his wand to fire a spell and Hermione seized it, shrieking, “You can’t hurt a baby!” to Harry’s horror.

He didn’t even have time to argue this point because there were footsteps sounding from the room with the Prophecies and if they didn’t move now they’d get caught thanks to his foolish shouting. Instead, he turned tail and ran for the black chamber, Hermione and Neville on his heels, leaving the baby-headed Death Eater behind.

But they didn’t have time to reach it, once more, as he could see two Death Eaters turning and spotting them through the open door, running as well. Instead, Harry turned and pulled open a door to his left, slamming it shut and locking them inside a dark, cluttering office.

Well, almost locking. “Collo -” was all Hermione managed to get out before the pair of Death Eater’s hurtled inside and bellowed, “IMPEDIMENTA!”

The three of them spiraled backwards into the air, Neville falling behind a desk, Hermione smashing into a bookcase and submerged under the falling wrath of two dozen heavy books, while Harry slammed his head against the stone wall behind him, plunged into a sea of tiny lights.

“WE'VE GOT HIM!” yelled the Death Eater nearest Harry. “IN AN OFFICE OFF -”

“Silencio!” Hermione cried, and while the man’s lips continued to move in the slit in his mask, no sound came out. Harry smirked, then pointed his wand at the Death Eater now marching towards him and yelled, “Ferrifors!” With a swirl of orange the Death Eater’s seemed to fall to the ground, leaving a vibrant red ferret scattering in place and squeaking like mad. It was Hermione turn to grin, looking over at him and saying, “I haven’t seen you do -”

But the silent Death Eater had just made a kind of slashing movement in the air with his wand, a streak of bright, purple flame appearing in its wake and passing right across Hermione’s chest. With a little, “Oh!” of surprise she fell backwards onto the floor, motionless.

“HERMIONE!” Harry fell beside her, picking up her hand and checking her pulse hurriedly as Neville crawled rapidly over to her from under a desk, wand held up so that when the Death Eater kicked him in the head he also broke his wand in two. Neville howled in pain, reeling back to clutch at his face, and Harry twisted to glare up at the Death Eater as he ripped off his mask and pointed at Harry.

He knew that face - he’d seen it in the Daily Prophet the morning the issue was released that this man had escaped prison: Antonin Dolohov, murderer of the Prewitts. With a grin, he pointed at the prophecy clutched safe and unharmed in Harry’s hand, at himself, than at Hermione. The message was as clear as if he had simply used words; if Harry didn’t give over the prophecy, he’d be in the same state as Hermione, limp in his arms…

Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead…

“Whaddever you do, Harry,” Neville couldn’t speak properly with a clear broken nose and blood pouring down his face, yet Harry could understand him just as well. “don'd gib it to him!”

A loud crash sounded somewhere back in the room all about Time, causing Dolohov to look over his shoulder, and Harry tightened his fist around his wand and then -

“POTTER!” Pansy Parkinson appeared in the doorway, wand at the ready and bob of hair a mess, spotting Dolohov and instantly crying out, “PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” freezing him solid as a board and causing him to topple over onto the still squeaking ferret on the floor. Pansy breathed a sigh of relief after and wiped her forehead, gesturing down the room she had come from with her wand asking, “So why’s that guy have a baby-head?”

Harry ignored her, instead turning to Hermione in his lap, still motionless, and brushing hair from her face, which was becoming colder. “Hermione,” he shook her as Pansy’s shoes clacked against the wood floor and she ran to kneel beside him and Neville. “Hermione, wake up…”

“Whaddid he do to her?” Neville asked, and, with one glance at his face, Pansy wordlessly removed her black and pink Inquisitorial Squad cape and handed it over. “Dank you.” He folded it and pressed it to his face and began to wipe up the blood. Harry stayed staring into Hermione’s still face, shaking his head. “I dunno…” For he had never seen a spell quite like that.

“Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is.” Neville said after grabbing Hermione’s wrist, and with great relief that left Harry feeling light headed he breathed, “She's alive?” and heard Neville say, “Yeah, I dink so.” He still refused to tear his gaze away from Hermione’s face, pleading for it to move - pleading for her eyes to open.

“Neville, Pansy, we're not far from the exit,” Harry tore his eyes away at last to glance over at the door and make sure no Death Eaters he couldn’t hear were coming, then looking the two beside him in the eyes to say, “we're right next to that circular room… if we can just get you across it and find the right door before any more Death Eaters come, I'll bet you two can get Hermione up the corridor and into the lift… Cedric’s bound to have gotten the Minister by now… they may be on their way at this very moment…”

“And what, you just expect us to abandon you? Leave you here with those psychopaths?” Pansy tossed her head in the direction of Dolohov and the ferret that remained of the other Death Eater. “Not a chance, Potter. Sorry, but we came this far and you let us. You’re not getting rid of us anytime soon.” As if to confirm that, Neville lowered her cape just enough to smirk at Harry, who frowned down at the girl in his arms.

“But Hermione -”

“We'll dake her wid us,” said Neville firmly. “I'll carry her - you're bedder at fighding dem dan I ab, an’ I’b strong enuff.” He stood, dropping Pansy’s cape and lifting Hermione up by one of her arms, Pansy standing as well and grabbing the other, helping to hoist Hermione’s body across Neville’s shoulders. She made sure to snatch up her wand and handed it to him, too, then the three of them made for the door.

“My gran's going do kill be. Dat was by dad's old wand.” They stepped into the room and glanced over to see what Pansy had made of the baby-headed Death Eater, seeing that she had knocked him out and into a shelf of Time-Turner’s, now spread haphazardly across the floor, before reforming into a shelf again on the wall, then falling once more, not unlike the cabinet that still had much the same progress in the corner.

Out of the office and into the black hallway, they entered the black chamber and the door to the Time Chamber swung behind them, the room beginning to rotate so that it made Harry feel slightly sick when added to the blow to his head, and, when it stopped, Harry saw to his dismay that all of Hermione’s fiery crossed were gone.

“Well now what are we -” Before Pansy could finish that thought the door to their right sprung open and three people practically fell out of it, distinguishable by their vibrant red or corn yellow hair.

“Ron!” The three ran towards them, Neville doing the best he could with Hermione on his back. “Ginny - are you all -?”

“Harry,” Ron giggled and grabbed at Harry’s robes, eyes unfocused in a way that reminded him direley of Draco and Anthony’s drunken state at the Three Broomsticks. “there you are… ha ha ha… you look funny, Harry… you're all messed up…” He fell to his knees on the floor, dragging Harry down a bit with him, who looked back up at Ginny, slumped against a wall and clutching her ankles.

“I think her ankles broken, I heard something crack,” Luna had knelt beside her, eyeing it and then her sadly then turning to look in Harry eyes, “Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets; it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark -”

“Harry, we saw Uranus up close!” Ron giggled to himself. “Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus - ha ha ha -” Blood was trickling out of Ron’s mouth, and Harry found he couldn’t look at him anymore, instead back at Luna. “- anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but…” She gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed. She slipped her hand in his and Ginny leaned her head on her shoulder, though even that seemed to cause her pain.

“And what about Ron?” Harry asked, trying in vain to get him to let go of his robes even as he continued to giggle. Luna shook her head. “I don't know what they hit him with, but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all.”

“Harry,” Ron pulled Harry down so he could giggle in his ear and point at Luna to say, “you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony… Loony Lovegood… ha ha ha.”

“We've gotta get out of here,” Harry succeeded in flinging Ron off him and pointed at the pair of girls before him. “Luna, can you help Ginny?”

“Yes,” Luna immediately began to pull Ginny up by placing an arm around her waist but was pushed off just as instantly as the redhead cried, “It’s only my ankle, I can do it myself!” only to collapse in seconds and have to grab onto Luna for help. Pansy dashed over as well, tearing the cape she had retrieved from Neville before they left the office in half so she could tie it around the ankle, then turning and holding out a hand to Neville.

“Granger’s wand, Longbottom, we don’t have all day,” She ordered and Neville parked up, mumbling right, and nodding to Harry down to the outer pocket of his robe, which Harry hurriedly hobbled over to - hobbled, as Ron was currently clinging to his leg and making movement very difficult - and drew out Hermione’s wand, than tossed it to Pansy.

“I’m really fine, Pansy, you don’t have -” Ginny was cut off in her second protest by her own cry of pain as Pansy straightened the ankle out without any hesitation or warning, and tied the wand to it as a splint.

“Sorry, Weasley, but I don’t know any healing spells and this is the next best option,” She clapped her hands together, sitting back from her handy work. “Good?” Ginny winced as Luna raised her up again and lifted her foot off the ground, but nodded.

As soon as they’d done that, the door not two feet away from the girls swung open, and Bellatrix Lestrange ran out, took one look, and grinned.

“There they are!”

Too many Stunning Spells to count were all thrown at them and Harry turned tail and ran for a door a few feet away from him, pulling Ron up by his armpits and dropping him inside the room behind it, then holding the door open and shielding a crossing Neville with a great shout of, “PROTEGO!” As the Stunning Spells bounced off the shield and the Death Eater’s ducked, Harry glimpsed the girls limping for the door beside them and pulling it open, and could only pray to Merlin they’d get there safe before slamming the door after Neville and Hermione. There was no time to waste.

“Colloportus!” Harry pointed his wand at the door handle and shouted, wincing as three bodies slammed into the door on the other side.

“It doesn’t matter!” a man’s voice cried. “There are other ways in -WE’VE GOT THEM, THEY’RE HERE!” Harry winced a second time when a girl’s scream cut through the air, and his mind could only wonder which of the three it was. “OH SHUT THAT GIRL UP! C’mon, let’s get Potter.” The footsteps faded and Harry spun around, surveying the room they had landed in to see it was the one with the tank filled with brains, that Ron was now ogling at, hands pressed against the glass as Neville panted for air beside him.

"Neville! Help!" In an instant, and following Neville dropping Hermione's body beside Ron's, the pair of boys bolted to every door in the room and sealed them, Harry even having to lunge over a table to point his wand at the next and cry, "Colloportus!"

But they could still hear footsteps, and if that didn't give away the Death Eaters hot on their trail, the continuous screams of a girl being dragged around with them certainly did.

Finally, instead of the thud and creaking sounds that had accompanied a Death Eater attempting to slam against Harry and Neville's sealed doors, they heard a crash and a cry of triumph, and turned in horror to see five Death Eaters had just emerged from the other side of the room, three doors down from Neville.

“Get Potter!” Bellatrix shrieked and Harry, with only a moment to gulp, spun on his heel and slid under the desk he had just slid over to avoid a Stunning Spell, followed by Bellatrix's annoyed shriek, almost like a mocking afterthought of, “And don't harm him!”

She was right though, whether she liked it or not; as long as Harry was carrying the prophecy he couldn't get hurt. But that didn't mean his friends were any safer.

"Hey!" He spun on his heel, wrapping his hand in Ron's robes to hoist him up beside him as he called out, "You want the prophecy? Come and get it!" To the Death Eater's and spun on his heel, drawing them away from Neville, and the unconscious Hermione.

"Leave them!" Bellatrix ordered, pointing her wand at Harry, then grimacing as she no doubt remembered she couldn't hit him and instead flicking her wand and causing the door Harry had mistakenly hesitated before reaching to slam shut in his face. He banged a fist against it and yelled, "Alohomora!" But it was no use.

"Hey!" Harry whirled around to see that in his rush for the door Ron had somehow managed to detach himself and was now pointing at the tank before them, staggering like a drunkard on his feet. "Hey Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

“Ron! Get down, Ron please -” It was no use. Even as Harry leaned forward to plead with him, stretching out an arm to grab at his robes, his grip was weak, because just as the prophecy was sabotaging the Death Eaters, it was also sabotaging himself, and if he broke it -

The truth. His parents. Voldemort.

“RON!”

“Honest, Harry, they're brains - look - Accio brain!”

Neville, who was crawling behind a desk and stretching a hand towards an incapacitated Pansy, near passing out from the various bleeds spread across her body, turned his head up along with her towards the top of the tank, in unison with the rest of the Death Eaters and Harry. Some mouthed their swears, prayers, or cruel thoughts, but all were left in wonder as a brain burst from the green surface and soar through the air, straight at the waiting Ron.

“Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it -” Ron marvelled and pointed his finger like a delighted child as several ribbons flun out of the incoming brain, unraveling towards him, “Harry come and touch it; bet it’s weird -”

“RON, NO!” He couldn’t even yell ‘don’t touch it’ - there was no time. Ron had already met contact with the brain in his hands, and as soon as he did that, those ribbon-like tentacles began to snake their way up his arms, wrapping around him and tightening like ropes. For a moment, Ron laughed, but it died quickly in his throat, and he was left looking completely horrified.

“No - no - I don't like it - no, stop - stop -” The ribbons had begun to snake up his shirt. Harry let go of the handle of the door he was attempting to force open and instead bolted forwards, while attempting to aim his wand at the brains and not hit Ron. “Diffindo!” He yelled but it was of no use. Nothing was breaking these ropes that were now causing Ron so much pain, he had fallen over, thrashing violently.

Meanwhile, Neville was running full speed across the floor towards him and dodging Stunning Spells as he went, and Harry could only plead to whatever God existed above - he had spent enough time in the Wizarding World now to know they seemed to worship Merlin, however - that someone could come save them. Ron was suffocating, Neville had no wand, and he, Harry…

He, Harry, had got them all into this mess.

“CONFRINGO!”

God - Or Merlin, who knows - answered his prayers. From the door on the other side of the room from the Death Eaters, Luna burst in with Ginny leaned against her side, pointed her wand right at the center of the group of Death Eater’s and caused all of their robes to burst into flame.

Pansy wasn’t with them, which meant she must have been the one screaming. What had Bellatrix Lestrange done with her?

There was no time for Harry to worry about that; Ginny took one look at Ron, thrashing on the floor and was already detaching herself from Luna and hobbling forward on one foot. But a well aimed jet of red light smacked her in the head just as she was opening her mouth to speak and Luna had to rush to grab her before she fell once more.

As Harry pointed his wand again and prepared to yell Diffindo, something got caught in his brain. A thought. What had Bellatrix done with Pansy? It repeated in his brain, and glancing down at the prophecy, he remembered Lucius Malfoy and the desperate look in his eyes. He remembered him splitting up all the Death Eaters. Backing away from Ron as Neville and Luna tried every spell on him, pulling at the tentacles frantically, Harry allowed himself a moment to think, but he really only needed a second.

Jugson and Dolohov had gone together. They’d been taken care of, and two other Death Eater’s too. Nott was down, Malfoy had said that, so that left six others.

Harry allowed himself the tiniest of smirks. There was a good chance Malfoy was either alone at this very moment, or with only one other Death Eater. Either way, Harry liked those odds.

“Luna get Hermione’s wand from Ginny,” He ordered her, pointing at a desk and drawing it towards him with a quick Accio Desk, to shield them from the incoming stunners. “Neville, I need you and Luna to help Ron and distract these guys. Here,” He pointed at the prophecy, then tapped it and muttered a duplication spell. Neville widened his eyes but Harry gave him no time to congratulate him before handing him one of the glass balls.

“Do as I say, Neville, please!” He stood up, bellowing, “EXPELLIARMUS!” at a Death Eater charging towards them and then turning to run for the door.

“What about you?”

He ignored Neville’s final call, instead yelling, “Reducto!” at the locked door before him and raising his arms to brace against the splintering wood before running inside.

“MALFOY! MR. MALFOY! LUCIUS MALFOY! COME OUT I HAVE THE PROPHECY! I’M READY TO GET SOME ANSWERS NOW! I HAVE THE PROPHECY!”

He wrenched door after door in the black chamber open and screamed into each one, before finally reaching the stone, theater like chamber and spotting a head of vibrant white hair. Immediately, he let go of the door handle, set his jaw, and stepped inside.

“Mr. Potter,” Lucius Malfoy grinned up at him, tapping his wand on the shoulder of a restrained Pansy, then pacing the length of the veil, eyes never leaving the boy above. “Welcome.”

The door swung closed slowly, and with a deep breath, Harry began to walk down the stairs.

-*-*-*-

"Right, we don’t have a lot of time,” Draco couldn’t breathe, so yeah, there was no way he was hearing or comprehending Dumbledore’s words as the man strode across the top of the tower towards him and guided him back to the edge of the ramparts, hands firmly on his arms, past his rolling wand, made utterly useless by now by the fact that Draco had also lost the voice to ever be able to speak a spell. “Draco, you’re going to listen to me very carefully.”

He tips his chin up a bit so that Draco’s dulled down eyes are forced to meet the piercing blue pools of sorrow before him. Sorrow he’s not prepared to be met with, that scares him.

Not as much as a sudden bang from downstairs does, however, followed by distant shouting, growing louder by the second.

“Someone is coming, and I’m sure they are going to be a lot more willing to finish the job on a defenseless old man then you are Draco -” Dumbledore cut off, glancing back at the wide expanse of the school of Hogwarts around them. His school. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

He shakes his head. Now is not the time to be sentimental, not that he would have ever let himself be. “Professor Snape, Draco,” He turns back to the shaking, shivering boy before him, sniffing furiously in a foolhardy attempt to banish his tears. “Talk to him. Trust him, and make Harry do the same. He is all you can trust now. Do you understand?” Draco nods, weakly, but Dumbledore does so more strongly and strides back over to where the boy had stood planted to the ground a moment before to retrieve his wand.

“Take this, I’m sure whoever is beyond that door will put up a fight when this is over,” He hands it off but the Malfoy boy widens his eyes in horror, gaping at his Headmaster. “Over?” Dumbledore winces in a sad, pitiful kind of way, before nodding once more. “Don’t you worry, just listen,” He grabs the younger boy - the child - by the shoulder and leans in, speaking very softly but very intensely now, “In the pensieve, you must visit every memory labeled ‘Tom Riddle’ that I have stored. With Harry. It is imperative that Harry sees them. If you wish to give up after three, two, maybe even one that is fine but Harry must go on. Like many things, the poor boy has no choice.”

“Does this have to do with the prophecy?” Another bang, the shouting has to be just beyond those doors now. “The one my Dad is getting? Is Harry -”

“Don’t worry about that, Draco, just listen,” They don’t have long now, maybe half a minute, maybe even less. “McGonagall is to be put in charge of the school, she’ll be able to help you see these memories. Trust her as well. Trust all of the Order of the Phoenix. But not as much as -”

Footsteps. Whoever it was was coming, and fast -

“Draco,” Grey eyes met blue. A student watching a far older mentor peer at him above his glasses with grief and hope. Hope that his next words would guide him more than any other he had said. Hope that they would get through what was on the other side of that door and all he had just told him wouldn’t matter. Hope that when he looked into Dumbledore’s eyes, he’d be met with the same man that had welcomed the first years to the school the day of his Sorting.

But hope was a fickle thing, because one could have so much of it, and yet still it means nothing when faced with reality. Reality like how Draco didn’t see a mentor in those eyes, but a much younger, much more sorrowful man who told him, “Tell Harry… I cared for him very much.” with a soft, broken smile.

The smile of a dead man.

The door burst open, and with a shove Dumbledore pushed Draco backwards as a boy marched through the door and straight across the ramparts until he was halfway to the old man leaning against them, raising an eyebrow curiously. Draco had imagined, maybe, that it was one of the Carrows, or Yaxley, or - and this was a hope so strong he barely allowed himself to think it - a member of the Order.

But instead, Cedric Diggory stood staring his headmaster in the eye, wand raised, and poised to kill.

“Hello, Headmaster,” He drawled with a smirk so foreign and disgusting on such a handsomely kind face that it caused Draco’s jaw to hit the floor. “How are we this evening?”

“Cedric?” In case Draco needed to feel any more hopeless at the moment, even Dumbledore sounded at a loss for words in stunned silence at the sight before him. “What are you doing here?”

“Killing you, of course,” The boy cocked his head to the side so he could look at Draco with a frown that sent a chill down his spine - a similar cold shiver that he couldn’t quite pinpoint where he’d felt it. “Because clearly this boy is too scared to do it.”

“But you’re just a boy too! Cedric,” Dumbledore took a step forward but kept his wands raised as Cedric’s wand hand flinched. “Whatever - Whoever is making you do this… They’re not the answer. I can help you…”

Dumbledore trailed off and Draco found that response very understandable because miraculously, as if laughing in the face of how Draco himself had broken down in tears, Cedric began to laugh. Cedric, who had always been the kindest soul Draco had ever met. Cedric, who had always played fair, and honest, even not treating Harry with any less when he started dating his ex-girlfriend. That Cedric Diggory was now laughing in the face of his Headmaster, who he seemed all too ready to kill.

“Cedric Diggory is gone!” The boy now gasped. “Probably rotting away in the Malfoy dungeons as we speak.”

Wait.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened slightly, but enough for Cedric - or not Cedric - to smirk with a tilt of his head.

No.

“No,” The old man whispered, but the student who was most certainly not an innocent Hufflepuff just kept grinning back at him. “Oh yes… You see, I’m not Cedric. I never was. The name’s Bartemius Crouch Jr, and I don’t think we’ve properly met? Not since I was actually a student at this school, anyway. Though I believe you saw my trial, Albus? Lovely spectacle I gave there, I must say, one of my best, so I can’t blame you for falling for my little trick this year. I alway prided myself on my acting capabilities,” he bowed lowly, clearly still laughing in the face of Dumbledore and Draco’s dumbstruck horror, but metaphorically this time. When he stood straight again, he wasted no time in flicking his wand back up to pointing at Dumbledore’s heart. “Doesn’t matter now, though, seeing as how you’ll be dead in a moment…”

Barty Crouch Jr turned his head to frown down at Draco, horrified and silent, with the disappointed look of the teacher he was a year before eyeing a badly done assignment. “I expected better from you, Malfoy,” The man spoke with tones all too familiar through the lips of a friend. Draco felt as if he was going to be sick, if he hadn’t of course felt like that before. “After all that teaching… I thought I really did have a chance at shaping the Malfoy heir into a prime specimen for the new age of Death Eaters. Instead, you go on and pass the information I taught you to your little friends in the ‘Hogwarts Order of Defense.’” He mocked the name Draco and his friends had picked out - which this monster was there for in every second of every meeting - with high pitched disgust. Sticking his tongue out before turning back to Dumbledore, Draco realized with a brick to the chest that he must have done such a good job playing Cedric Diggory because the thirty four year old never grew up.

“But, as I said before, none of that matters now. What matters is that Draco did enough of what he was told, and now I’ve got you at my mercy,” Barty Crouch Jr grinned maliciously with each step he took further to the still horrified looking Dumbledore. “Now you will die tonight, and your Order, so worthlessly wrapped up in helping Harry Potter miles away from here, will never be able to save you.”

“I am an old fool,” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet, but, miraculously, still held the same strong wisdom Draco remembered hearing from times gone by. Even as he shook his head and stepped away from the ramparts, resigned to his fate. Even then, Albus Dumbledore would never stop being the greatest Wizard of all time. “You are right, you caught me. So let us be done then? I’ve said what I’ve needed to say,” He spared a glance and a certain impermeable wink towards Draco that made him shut his open jaw tight and swallow hard. “Done what I’ve needed to do… There is nothing to wait for now, Barty. Go on.”

Draco would not be the one meeting Death tonight, it would be Dumbledore, and just as the story goes, he’d certainly greet it like an old friend.

“Avada Kedavra!” A jet of green light shot itself across the ramparts and straight into the old man’s chest. A crack of lightning crashed, and it was quite a sight as Dumbledore was blasted into the air, suspending under a bolt of lightning and the green skull and serpent above for a split second. A second that seemed magical, or at least the most magic Draco had ever seen in his short life, as a man who’d always served as a grandfatherly mentor to him and countless others at this school floated above it all, illuminated in green as if some godlike figure, flying, for just a second, seemingly never more powerfully. But the facade lasted only for a second, before he was falling, falling, falling, like a great rag doll, never more helpless and small, over the ramparts, over the tower, and out of sight.

And Draco was screaming, screaming, screaming, with horror and grief, until he saw a flash of red against all that dark, evil green, and felt it clash square into his skull, and then he was falling as well, but hit something hard rather fast, making everything go dark.

-*-*-*-

Each step Harry took down the stairs to the veil below was hollow, but echoed across the wide, empty space, as well as within him in a chilling sort of way. His breathing was still steadying from that run, and yet he continued to step forward. And Lucius Malfoy continued to smile up at him. And Pansy continued to fight as hard as she could against her bonds.

Everything continued until Harry reached the final step, opened his mouth, and spoke in a clear, strong voice up to the man above him, standing proudly on the dais. “Where is Draco?”

The smile was gone in a second. Harry’s fingers gripped around the glass ball a little tighter, maybe even subconsciously, as Malfoy’s stare hardened, and in a soft, soft voice he said, “That is none of your concern,” He stretched out a hand, palm up once more. “Now hand over the prophecy.”

The manic desperation, though light, and imperseable had Harry not already seen it in him, was back. That gave Harry all the answers he needed; where Draco was, and what had caused him to act the way he had since Christmas, most certainly was tied to how Malfoy was acting right now, and how much he wanted this small ball. “Not until you tell me where he is.”

“We do not have the -” Malfoy rolled his eyes, wand slipping off Pansy’s shoulder and causing them to relax a bit as he began to pace the length of the dais. “Draco has nothing to do with any of this! What matters is you, Potter, and that prophecy,” he pointed a finger at it, still swirling with mist in Harry’s hand, then leaned down a bit, brows forming a softer line, “It holds so much truth, Potter. Don’t you want to know? The secret of your scar? Your parents? Your connection to the Dark Lord?”

“I want…” Harry trailed off as his eyes drifted down to the globe in his hand. He pushed a bit of dust away with his thumb and wondered openly what he wanted more. His friends needed to get away from this place and be safe, but he also needed to get Malfoy to tell him what was wrong with his son, but also… The truth.

“If I give this to you,” He shifted it in his hand, not quite tossing it but just adjusting the ball’s weight in his hand, not quite daring himself to look back up at Malfoy. “You’ll tell me what’s inside it? You’ll tell me what’s happening with Draco?”

“Of course, Potter,” Still, Harry can’t bear to lift his head to him. “You have my word.”

With stiff legs and an acidy bile building in the back of his throat, Harry took a step up the dais. He raised his fist, closed tight around the globe, above Malfoy’s open hand then let it slip and fall onto his palm. Malfoy gripped it, and Harry could hear him give a slight sigh out his nose of relief, triumph, he did not know, above the sound of his own beating heart and Pansy’s vicious yells against the gag in her mouth.

He finally raised his head from staring at the floor to find the manic desperation had reached its limit, and those gray eyes, so similar to Draco’s and especially in the way they gazed at the ball in their hand, flicked to Harry very briefly, raising an eyebrow.

“I suppose you are waiting for me to tell you where Draco is?”

Harry became aware now that he could now hear distant shouting, which could only mean the Death Eaters were finally getting to them. He didn’t have time now. “Please, Mr. Malfoy,” He stepped a little closer, hands tight to fists at his side so that he could feel sweat building in them. “I need to know.”

“He should’ve killed him by now, if all's going to plan…” What? Harry spluttered a bit as Malfoy began walking away from him, removing his wand to tap on the ball in his hand. Harry followed, stumbling a bit in shock. “‘Killed him?’ Killed who?” The shouting was getting dangerously close now. His scar was pulsing so that it numbed his brain.

“Dumbledore of course.” Malfoy calmly raised the globe up to eye level, staring into the swirling mist but seeming to see right through it. Harry didn’t even allow himself to be worried that he might figure out the trick he had done on him and instead gasped, “He’s going to kill Dumbledore?”

Slowly, Lucius Malfoy turned his head to meet Harry’s eyes once more, lowering the ball and glowering down at him. Was it disappointment? Disgust? He could not tell, his head hurt so much now, and those shouts must be just beyond the doors, and Malfoy was holding the silver globe in front of his face now, and it was slipping from his fingers.

“Did you really think you were that clever, Potter?”

The fake prophecy crashed onto the ground at the same time every door around them in the Death Chamber banged open. A Death Eater stood in each doorway, holding one of his friends; a struggling, broken nosed Neville, a furiously kicking Luna, a passed out Ginny and Ron, and Hermione, still limp as… Every one of them were surrounding him now, at the top of the stone steps, grinning and leering.

“The prophecy Potter gave was a fake!” Malfoy called up to his comrades, brandishing his wand at the sprawled out glass remains on the floor between them. “One of his friends must have the real one - find it!”

Numbly, Harry became aware that Malfoy had grabbed ahold of him and flipped him around so that his arm gripped under his chin. “Meanwhile, you aren’t going to move a muscle, Potter. You gave the prophecy to your friends so that we couldn’t kill them - smart. But not enough to stop us, you must know.” Harry swallowed hard, eyeing the body of Hermione being jostled to the ground and poked at for the prophecy by Dolohov, and wanting nothing more than to spin around and punch Malfoy in the jaw, but he reminded him too much of Draco, Draco who might be killing someone. Not to mention if he threw up a fight they might not hesitate to kill his friends right then. Too many things were being thrown around inside his head on top of the headache from his scar, and if he could just have a moment to think -

“Found it!”

No.

With horror, and the inability to do anything when Malfoy shoved him down beside Pansy with a second body-bind curse, Harry watched as a Death Eater who had been holding Neville came running down with the real prophecy in his hand, and plopped it into Malfoy’s waiting palm. Once again, he breathed that same strange sigh, but this time, Harry really did feel like he might puke, because he knew that was the real thing, and they had just lost.

“The Dark Lord will be pleased,” Lucius Malfoy whispered, then looked up at Bellatrix Lestrange, who nodded with a smirk playing on her lips. Harry felt a hand grip his arm, and could see out of the corner of his eye a flurry of pale hair indicating Malfoy was grabbing Pansy as well, then heard a great crack, and was then plunged in a swirl of colors, screaming and screaming for all his might from the pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his scar, indicating the joy Voldemort was feeling.

For Voldemort had the prophecy, and Albus Dumbledore was dead.